


Hidden

by knockoutmouse



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Friends to Lovers, Headcanon: Henchperson is autistic, Henchperson is called Rory, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Making Out, Microaggressions, Nonbinary Character, Other, Scars, Self-Esteem Issues, Tattoos, unnecessary backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 05:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18203963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knockoutmouse/pseuds/knockoutmouse
Summary: Takes place circa Wide Window, for no real reasonFernald and Rory share a motel room, and each of them learns about something the other keeps hiddenWarnings are in the tags





	Hidden

**Author's Note:**

> I totally have other things I'm supposed to be doing besides writing this, but the idea came as I finished up my previous fic, and wouldn't go away.

On the shores of Lake Lachrymose, there was only one motel to be found, or at least only one motel that was currently open for business. 

“It’s the off season,” explained the desk clerk indifferently. 

“Very well,” said Olaf, taking no pains to disguise his displeasure as he glanced around at the run-down interior of the lobby. “Four rooms.”

“Four?” repeated the clerk, her eyes sweeping over the troupe, obviously mentally tallying them up and counting six people all together.

“They can share,” said Olaf, snatching one room key from the clerk’s hand and starting off toward his newly-acquired room.

“...right,” said the clerk, and handed out the rest of the keys. “One for you ladies.” She held out a key to Jenny and Elvira, who both took hold of it at the same time. “One for the gentlemen.” She started to hand a key to Fernald, glanced down at his hook, and leaned past him to give it to Arturo instead. “And one for...uh...” 

Rory reached for the last key, but the clerk tossed it to the counter in front of them and turned back to her ancient computer without another word. 

“Thanks,” they said morosely. 

The clerk didn’t look up. 

The troupe proceeded down the hallway, searching for the room numbers to match their keys. Rory found their room first. Fernald hung back while Arturo and the twins continued down the hall. 

“It was really rude for her to do that to you,” said Rory as they unlocked the door. “I’m sorry that happened. I...I should have said something.”

“She was pretty rude to you, too,” Fernald pointed out. 

Rory shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

The two of them stood awkwardly in silence outside the doorway for a moment. 

“Um...so...although the clerk seemed to assume that we’d adhere to gender-segregated sleeping arrangements,” Rory began, “you’re welcome to stay with me if you’d like.”

“Thanks,” said Fernald gratefully. “I can never sleep if I have to share a room with Arturo.”

“Me either,” said Rory.

“He snores,” said the two of them in unison, and Rory actually smiled at this. 

Inside the room, the window blinds were missing several slats, all the better to see the storm still raging outside. The rain pounded hard against the roof of the dilapidated motel, and in a few places, dripped through the ceiling onto the worn, ugly carpet. 

“Nice place,” murmured Fernald. 

“We could go ask the clerk for a different room,” suggested Rory, but didn’t sound very invested in the idea.

“I’d rather not talk to her again,” admitted Fernald.

“Yeah, me either.”

The television, it turned out, picked up nothing but static. Fernald produced a deck of cards, and the two of them played for the next hour or so, until Fernald got tired of losing. 

“Is it just me,” he grumbled, “or have you gotten better at this since we started?”

“No way,” said Rory unconvincingly. “That’s totally not a thing.”

Fernald gave them a long, scrutinizing look. “Okay, I don’t know how that’s possible, but you’re definitely lying.”

“Okay, you’re right,” Rory admitted. “At first I was trying to let you win, but, um...it didn’t work, so after a while I gave up.”

“Let me win?” repeated Fernald, bewildered. “But why?”

They looked at him earnestly. “I was trying to do something nice,” they said. “I thought it might make you feel better.”

“Feel better from what?” Fernald hadn’t thought he’d needed cheering up particularly, but maybe he looked that way. “Do I seem sad?”

“I don’t know? Maybe? It’s hard to tell,” said Rory. “But the lady at the front desk--and the room--” They gestured to the dripping water. “And the TV doesn’t work, and you’re stuck here with me, and--”

“Hang on,” said Fernald. “I’m here willingly, in case you’ve forgotten. Despite whatever assumptions you seem to hold, I do actually like hanging out with you.”

Rory brightened up immediately at that. “Really?”

“Obviously.”

“And besides,” they went on, “I thought, um...I should do something to say thanks for not leaving me by myself. Sometimes when I’m alone, I start thinking too much, and…” They trailed off as he stared uncomprehendingly. “Sorry.”

“You could have just told me that,” said Fernald. “Instead of trying to lose at cards on purpose.”

“I didn’t know how.” 

And the way they were looking at him now was so sincere and apologetic, and even though he didn’t understand their reasoning on the matter in the least, he still found it touching that they’d cared so much. Somehow _that_ translated into the urge to kiss them, which he did, although probably he should have thought it through a bit more. Then again, Rory didn’t seem to mind at all--in fact, they were kissing him back quite eagerly. 

Making out with his coworker in a cheap motel room during a thunderstorm wasn’t the way Fernald had expected the day to end, but it certainly wasn’t anything to complain about. Actually, it was very nice. And Rory wasn’t trying to rush things along, which he also found surprisingly pleasant. 

When they did begin to take off his shirt, they asked, “Are you all right with this?”

“Well--”

They stopped right away and let go of him. “I’m sorry. I should have asked before I started.”

“It isn’t that,” said Fernald. “It’s just--I thought I should warn you first. I have a lot of scars. Some of them are pretty...severe, for lack of a better word. If that’ll bother you, I can keep my shirt on.”

“Not at all,” said Rory. “But you can, if you’d be more comfortable that way. Um. Also.” They looked away from him and began wringing their hands. “I have some scars, too.”

Fernald touched them on the chin and lifted their face so he could look them in the eyes. “Hey. I don’t mind. And if I did, that’d be pretty hypocritical, don’t you think? I’ve got no room to judge.”

“That’s true,” they admitted, and seemed to cheer up. “Yeah. Okay.” 

When Fernald was finally shirtless, Rory traced over his bare skin almost in fascination, over the scars on his chest, the tattoos on his biceps, ships and mermaids and a single heart bearing a name. 

Rory tilted their head to read it. “Undine?”

“You...pronounced that correctly,” said Fernald in surprise. 

“Classical mythology,” they murmured modestly. “An ex?”

“My mother’s name,” Fernald explained. 

They nodded. “I never knew you had tattoos.”

Fernald shrugged. “After I had to get the VFD insignia on my ankle, I didn’t think it hurt that much, so I got some more that I actually liked.”

“That’s cool.” Their voice held admiration, and once again their fingertips brushed over his skin.

“Do you have any?” he asked.

“Tattoos? No. Just--just these.” Rory began to unbutton their own shirt, and Fernald realized their hands were trembling. 

He touched their arm. “Hey. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, okay?”

“I--I know. I want to. You showed me.”

Fernald nodded silently. Rory turned away from him as they undressed, then took a deep breath, squared their shoulders, and turned back around. 

For a moment, Fernald wasn’t sure what he was looking at. Their upper arms were scarred with thin, neat lines--lots of them, the kind that might be left by the blade of a small knife, or a razor--

“Oh--sweetheart,” he breathed. “You--you did this to yourself?”

“You said--you said you wouldn’t judge.”

“You’re right,” said Fernald. “I did. I promise I’m not. And you certainly don’t owe me an explanation.” He hesitated. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Not right now,” they said. “Actually, right now, I kind of just want to keep making out with you and see where things go from there. And maybe I’ll tell you about this some other time.”

Fernald nodded in agreement, and in a moment, Rory was back in his arms.

“Kiss me?” they asked. 

He was only too happy to oblige.


End file.
